


All the masks you wear

by Tayani



Series: ShuAke Confidant Week [12]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira has a Palace AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Shuake Week 2020, Third Semester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayani/pseuds/Tayani
Summary: Shuake Week 2020 Day 2 - Corruption / Masks / GamesDuring a routine check of how much distortion did the distorted reality really mean, Goro Akechi checks all the Phantom Thieves against the Meta-Nav.He comes up with one hit.It is not on the name he had been expecting.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuAke Confidant Week [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1172450
Comments: 46
Kudos: 423
Collections: Quality Persona Fics





	All the masks you wear

Goro wished he could say it was his deductive reasoning and skill that led him there, to the gates of Kurusu Akira’s Palace.

He had to admit in this case, simple luck was more of a reason for it.

It started innocently enough. After being let out of prison without as much as an explanation, Goro met up with Akira – who seemed to remain sane, thank god – and they moved on to Odaiba. Joined with Yoshizawa, infiltrated the Palace of that egotistical piece of shit Maruki, and then everything went straight to hell.

Of course, it wasn’t all that bad. They just needed to regroup, perhaps acquire some more manpower… Goro didn’t doubt Akira would do all his usual simpering to get his precious friends (who seemed to just abandon him the moment he wasn’t needed anymore, and wasn’t that hilarious) back. It fell on him to do proper investigating, then – and that was fine with him.

One part of this investigation was to check on the members of the Phantom Thieves and to find out just how far Maruki’s twisted reality distorted the people in it. The new Meta-Nav on his phone seemed somewhat broken and glitchy, but it still let him check if any of the others’ names would be a hit.

He didn’t expect anything to come up when he finished the routine check-up with Akira’s name. It was more for the sake of being thorough than anything else – but it  _ was  _ a hit.

A normal person – a good  _ friend  _ – would probably at that point go to Akira and confront him about this. Thankfully, Goro was done pretending to be good  _ or  _ normal, and he could let his curiosity run free as a result. The fact that the gallant leader of the Phantom Thieves, the man with the saviour complex big enough Jesus Christ himself felt like your regular guy next to him, that  _ this man  _ had a Palace…

Well. Colour him intrigued.

Investigation on Maruki was stalled anyway, so Goro had all the time in the world for that mystery. Figuring out the keywords took some time – after all, what could Akira see as distorted? The nature of the distortion wasn’t that difficult – Joker’s flair and the ever-present mask let Goro arrive at  _ masquerade  _ quite naturally. As for the other thing, though… Goro went through Leblanc, Yongen-Jaya, Shibuya, Tokyo, the whole of Japan… he even dug up the name of Akira’s hometown and the location of his house and school back there, all to no avail. A few (a lot of) random guesses later, he finally hit home.

The  _ place _ , the thing Akira saw as distorted enough to create a Palace out of it… was  _ Kurusu Akira’s heart _ .

And now, here Goro was – standing, phone in hand, and looking right into it.

Akira’s heart, for all the distortion, was quite beautiful. Goro pocketed his phone and took off his coat and scarf. His clothes didn’t change and despite the real world’s chill, here the temperature was pleasantly warm. In front of him, there was an intricate, wrought iron gate, wide open and welcoming. Past it, well…

Past it was a palace.

It made Goro think back to his art classes – to teachers gushing about Western architecture while pictures of Chateau de Versailles flashed on the projector. Right out the gate, a vast hedge maze began, filled with flowers and little quaint niches with benches in them, perfect to rest in. The air was golden and warm, the wind refreshing, carrying with it a pleasant, earthy scent.

Even after passing through the gate, Goro’s clothes remained the same. Clearly, Akira never learnt – for him not to consider a man who tried to kill him a threat, letting him into his heart so willingly.

This meant Goro couldn’t summon his Personas or use his weapons here. Theoretically, Akira welcoming him into his Palace meant Shadows shouldn’t attack him. However, Goro didn’t get to where he was now by being careless. He sneaked through the maze carefully, mindful of any threats or traps that could be hidden among the hedges. Step by step, he moved deeper and deeper into the vast garden, constantly moving towards the other side of it and the palace itself. The maze seemed empty – fifteen minutes must have passed since he entered, and there were still no signs of life anywhere. Goro allowed himself to relax, take a few bolder steps inside, and-

Suddenly, there was a howl. Before he could react, reach for his non-existent sword,  _ anything,  _ Goro was being tackled to the ground. Hot breath fanned over his face, enormous white paws pushed into his shoulders, making his body sink into the mossy ground. Stunned and with his life flashing in front of his eyes, Goro stared into the gaping maw of a Cerberus, rows of teeth bared, ready to maul his throat. He snapped his eyes shut, preparing for the first bite…

…which never came.

Instead, Goro heard the beast pant – and then, he was being lapped at, Cerberus’s wet tongue flicking slobber into his face.

“Crow! Crow, play!” the beast cried out excitedly, licking his cheeks. Goro’s eyes snapped open again. The next moment, due to the fact he was still not being bitten to death, he tried to push the beast off of him, grimacing in disgust. The whole front of his blouse was wet by now, covered in Cerberus’s stinky slobber.

It took some doing, but the hound finally released him. Getting to his feet, Goro noticed he was wearing a collar – comfortable and wide, with Joker’s mask shining proudly in the middle of it. Suddenly it clicked; Goro narrowed his eyes.

“Cerberus? You know who I am?” he asked. The hound panted, his long, serpentine tail wagging happily. He hit the ground with his front paws.

“Crow! Play, play!” he barked. Goro looked around. There was an adequately sized stick laying in the moss to his right. He picked it up, weighing it in his hand. Cerberus’s eyes immediately focused on it. He went down on his front paws, his back up in the air, tail wagging madly. Despite himself, Goro smiled.

“I’ll play with you, just confirm one thing with me – you’re Joker’s Persona, correct? You’re not just a Shadow in this place?”

“Yes! Me, mask! Now, play!” the hound barked excitedly. Goro hummed. He looked around and then, once he found the approximate location of the exit gate, flung the stick as hard as he could towards it.

“Good boy. Now, fetch!”

For a moment, Goro watched as Cerberus bounded after the stick. He sighed, grabbing his scarf and trying to clean his shirt and face the best he could.

Well then. This simplified things a bit. He didn’t need to worry about much – except for overexcited, cheerful dogs trying to force him to play with them, apparently. If all the Shadows in this place were Akira’s Personas, well… Goro met most of them, and none of them were ever hostile towards Akira’s frien-

Teammates. Towards Akira’s teammates.

He moved through the rest of the maze quicker, more confidently. There were a few more Personas Goro met on his way, though none gave him many problems. A stray incubus cackled at the state of his clothes (“ _ Want me to help take them off, handsome? _ ”); a Jack Frost and Black Frost pulled him into a snowball fight which was… surprisingly  _ fun _ , even if Goro wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that. A Mara rumbled by him in its carriage, an Ishtar fluttered around him and fretted about a bruise on his arm, insisting on healing it. By the end, a Metatron watched him pass with his metallic eyes filled with sadness that made a chill run down Goro’s spine.

And every single Persona he passed wore some signifier of belonging. A collar, a broch, a bracelet – there was always some image of Joker’s mask on them, always worn happily and with pride. It made Goro wonder, despite his better judgement, how his own heart would look like in that regard. Would Loki and Robin Hood be proud to wear his mask on them..?

The maze ended before Goro could finish the thought and he felt relieved it did. A wide, marble staircase invited him up, towards the gates to the palace. And there, on the stairs, sat…

“You’re a long way from home, mon coeur.”

Arsene.

Despite all the evidence so far, Goro felt himself tense up, ready for a fight. He had only seen Arsene once before – Joker didn’t use him much, even though Goro knew he always carried his true Persona in his heart. Still, after getting through a whole garden of random Personas, Goro could  _ feel  _ this one was different.

And, right now, blocking his entrance further into Akira’s distorted heart.

“No need to look so tense,” Arsene said. There was no real face for him to smile with, but somehow, the fire within the Persona ventured to look amused. He stood up and took off his hat, giving Goro a sweeping bow. He reached one clawed hand out in silent question and, when Goro acquiesced and placed his own hand on it, Arsene placed a gallant kiss on his palm. The fire of his lips should burn, but instead, Goro felt pleasant warmth spread over his whole body. He looked down at himself – the dirt and grime he gathered during his trip through the maze seemed to dissolve into thin air. Arsene smiled at him again and let his hand go.

“…you’re not going to stop me?”

“Why would I? One would argue you are more welcome here than I am, mon coeur,” Arsene said – and then, seeing Goro’s frown, let out a sigh.

“Well now… You  _ are  _ a rather oblivious one, aren’t you?”

“What do you-”

“No matter. By all means, proceed onwards, mon amour,” Arsene smiled at him again, gesturing towards the gates to the Palace. “You will find  _ him  _ there – go through the main hall and to the guest chambers. I am certain you’ll find what you are looking for there.”

Black wings spread out and the next moment, Arsene was gone, leaving after himself only confusion – and an open path further into Akira’s heart.

“Through the main hall and to the guest chambers, huh?” Goro repeated under his breath, coming up to the doors. They were wide, tall and heavy, made of carved wood. They swung open at the barest touch of Goro’s hand. Once again, against all expectations, he had been welcomed without as much as token resistance.

It was starting to make him feel uncomfortable, if he was being honest with himself. Did that fool not know any better than to simply let anyone barge into his own heart?

Beyond the door, there was a similarly beautiful corridor, leading towards another set of heavy doors, this time open wide from the start. The air filled with music; in the hall beyond, under crystal chandeliers, Goro could see figures dancing, laughing and chatting with one another.

He moved closer, his steps echoing on the marble floor. The moment he got to the hall, however, and was able to see what exactly the figures  _ were _ , he stopped dead in his tracks.

Akira was there – or, more accurately,  _ Akiras were there _ . Dozens of him – perfect copies of his friend, each dressed in simple, plain attire, each wearing a different mask and accompanying a different person. They weren’t all dancing, now Goro could take a closer look. Rather…

Right to Goro’s left, one of the Akiras was hanging off an arm of a dark-haired boy who seemed to be talking excitedly to him. The look on Akira’s face made Goro want to puke; he looked completely enraptured by the boy, hanging off his every word, interrupting only to compliment him and say how much he relied on him. His mask had a number XVIII on it and an approximate picture of a moon. Goro wished he could tell what the hell that meant.

Soon, he realized all the people here were the same. All of them were accompanied by their very own Akira, performing actions separate from all the others, as if they couldn’t even see one another. A blonde girl with Akira number X played with a deck of tarot cards, her Akira overturning each card she placed. Two small girls in blue uniforms strung Akira number XI on some sort of torture device, laughing and commenting on how well he bore with pain. And there by the end, near another staircase leading further up, there was a metal table that felt sickeningly familiar, and by it…

“Sae-san…?” Goro stared, walking close to the prosecutor, feeling like he was in an exceedingly strange dream. Sae ignored him; she was looking straight at the beaten-up, unfocused face of Akira number XX, staring at him with the kind of intense look she reserved for only the worst criminals.

Goro heard Akira’s voice; it was quiet and laborious, each word obviously costing him a lot. He walked up to Sae and grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. Only then she seemed to see him, her annoyance growing as she looked at him.

“Can’t you see he’s in pain? What are you doing?” Goro said, not even sure why the scene shook him so much. Sae shrugged, looking back coldly at Akira’s beaten-up face.

“He’ll answer my questions, whatever state he’s in. Don’t worry – I promised I’ll protect him, so even if I don’t, at least he’s comfortable in thinking it will all be over soon. I need to prosecute Shido, Akechi-kun. Whatever I need to sacrifice on my way there, I will. This boy will do as I tell him to protect his friends; and don’t you agree this is the easiest way forward?”

Goro stared. The cognition in front of him wasn’t the real Sae, he knew that – the real Sae wouldn’t have said such a thing so casually, but…

He felt Akira’s eyes on himself. He smiled at him sadly.

“That’s right,” he said, voice dead and colourless. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I want everyone to be safe; it doesn’t matter what happens to me…”

Akira smiled again and turned back to Cognitive Sae. A second later, the two continued their interview, as if Goro wasn’t even there.

All of a sudden, Goro felt he didn’t want to be there anymore. Trying very hard not to look at all the other Akiras and their own personal brands of distortion, he walked briskly toward the stairs, climbing two steps at a time. At the top, there was another open door, another corridor – and another Persona waiting there for him.

This one he’s only seen recently, during their infiltration into Maruki’s Palace. A demon lord, his six wings spread wide behind him, looked down at Goro from over his golden horns. Despite himself, Goro felt his heart beat faster, his body tensing up. Satanael didn’t say anything – he simply looked at him.

“Arsene said I’ll be welcome here,” Goro said, after a long moment of silence. The demon lord before him didn’t react. Slowly, feeling more and more like a fool, Goro took a few steps closer, coming as near to him as he dared.

“Let me through.”

Arsene was fire – his touch, his words, his very being. Satanael’s touch in comparison was ice. His hand felt like cold steel as it pressed gently to Goro’s cheek, in a gesture that was almost uncomfortably intimate.

Still silent, Satanael moved to the side. His wings folded. Goro could see the corridor with a set of doors on both sides – the guest chambers Arsene had mentioned. He was about to move, but hesitated, looking back at Satanael’s face.

It didn’t move – there was not a single trace of an expression on that metallic mask. Somehow though, Goro felt certain Satanael was sad. Terrible, hollow pain emanated from him in waves. Without thinking, he reached up, covering the demon lord’s hand with his own.

“…I’m not here to hurt him,” he said. Satanael couldn’t smile or even acknowledge him – but Goro felt a little bit better for saying that. He let go of Satanael’s hand and walked past him and into the corridor, feeling the Persona’s eyes on the back of his neck the whole time.

The music cut off the moment Goro stepped through the door, despite the fact it remained open and logically, Goro should still be able to hear it. The corridor, however, was eerily quiet. There were nine doors in it, all closed – four on Goro’s left, four on his right and the final one right in front of him.

The way to proceed seemed easy enough. There was only one way forward and Goro fully intended to walk it, but along the way, he chanced a look at one of the eight side doors, and, well…

They were all identical except for the sign emblazoned at the top. The first one Goro looked at, the one on his right, was almost like…

No, not even almost. It  _ was  _ Panther’s mask. Goro looked over the corridor and, sure enough – there was a door for each of the Phantom Thieves, excluding Joker and Goro himself. The only exception was the door in the far end – the smaller, more drab one compared to the others – this one had no mask on it at all.

Really, Goro should just go through the obviously correct door and leave the rest of them behind – but once again, curiosity took the better of him.

Panther’s door was the first and, after opening it and peering inside, Goro had a horrible mind-wrap feeling. He was back at the main hall, with all the Akira couples milling about – but this time, he could see Ann’s distinct silhouette in between the rest. She was facing towards him, talking happily to a girl in Shujin uniform. She seemed familiar, somehow - wrapped in bandages, her dark hair gathered in a ponytail. There was no specifically  _ Ann’s  _ Akira in sight.

Confused, Goro walked closer, reaching out to get Ann’s attention… and then the girl she was talking to turned to look at him.

It was Akira. Akira, in a mask with a crude depiction of lovers on it and number VI; Akira, warped and dressed up like a girl. Now the first shock passed, Goro recognized whom he was  _ supposed to  _ be – he'd heard of Suzui Shiho, Kamoshida’s last victim. Was Akira a stand-in for her?

Feeling sick, Goro turned, wanting to find the door outside, but immediately another scene pulled him in. This time, it was Ryuuji – he and his Akira were dressed in their Phantom Thief attire, bent over a table covered in maps and plans. Without meaning to, Goro overheard Akira speak, in a loud, cheerful tone he’s never heard from him.

“I know you’ll do well there, Skull! You’re my right-hand man, after all-“

Someone bumped into Goro’s back and he turned, staring as Cognitive Futaba squeaked, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a keychain-sized figurine of Akira. The figurine jumped off her hand and sprung to life, growing immediately into a full-sized, masked Akira for her to hide behind. To Futaba’s side, Goro noticed Makoto – she was walking and gesturing as she talked. Her Akira was barely a shadow of himself – translucent and reduced to nodding and murmuring assent. Morgana didn’t even  _ have  _ a human Akira with him – rather,  _ his  _ Akira looked more like a robot, doing whatever it was the cat told him to do. And there by the wall were Yusuke, Haru and Sumire. Yusuke’s Akira was naked, a prop he kept rearranging for his newest painting. Haru was sitting down with Akira in a therapist attire while beside them, Sumire laid asleep, with Akira – the gallant knight - swearing to wake her up.

All around him, the Phantom Thieves stood ignorant of one another, each with their version of Joker in tow. A stand-in for someone who’s left, a key item to use, a yes-man, a mirror of their thoughts. And none of them paid any attention to who he was beneath the various masks.

Goro didn’t quite understand why it made him so angry. Rather – he did understand but didn’t dare admit it. Completely done with the place, he turned on his heel and marched back, eager to be out. There had to be a door somewhere – any door. He realized by now each one of them led to the same place. Finally, he found one hidden behind a curtain and jerked it open. The reality around him warped and split and suddenly, he was back on the corridor again, slamming the door behind himself and seething in rage.

And all the while, Satanael was there, watching him from the entrance. Goro rounded back on him.

“Why do you let them?!” he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady. “ _ This  _ is what he thinks all of his precious  _ friends  _ see him as?  _ This _ ? Why don’t you stop them?! You’re him, you’re his soul! Why did you let it get this far?!”

Satanael didn’t reply. Somehow, that made it all the worse. Goro’s fists clenched; he wanted nothing more than to get to the end of this place and go home. Goro turned and marched towards the unmarked door.

Going through it was like moving to yet another realm. The grandeur and shine of the palace disappeared, turning into a dimly lit, narrow staircase. The warm, golden air turned back into February chill. For just a moment, pulling on his coat and scarf again, Goro wondered whether he didn’t accidentally fall out of the Metaverse. Then, he opened another door and understood just  _ where  _ he was.

This was Jazz Jin.

The familiarity and comfort of it, especially after what he had just seen, washed over Goro in a wave of pleasant warmth. The club was empty – the figure behind the bar had to be Muhen, but he was barely more than an element of the background. It was the same with the singer, swaying on the small stage. By the bar, there was an empty chair that pulled Goro’s attention. He didn’t know why, but someone was supposed to be there,  _ should  _ be there in the same way Arsene and Satanael had to be in  _ their  _ places – but the seat remained empty.

All this Goro noticed at first glance. At second, he could focus on nothing else but the two other people occupying the small bar. By the stage, right where a table being pushed to the side created a bit of space, two people danced. They were attempting swing – attempting rather poorly, though that didn’t seem to stop them. Clumsy steps and non-existent choreography made them bump into one another more often than dance, and every time it happened, they’d burst out laughing. Happy, entirely unbothered by the world around them…

_ Free _ .

His breath caught in his chest, Goro watched himself hold Akira and laugh with him. Neither of them wore any masks. His Akira –  _ Akechi’s  _ Akira looked so open and vulnerable with him, and achingly happy. It made Goro’s heart race.

Before he could think or decide on what his next action should be, the song ended. The two dancers stopped, locked in each other’s arms – and then, they turned to look at him.

“Took you long enough,” Cognitive Akechi said, allowing his hands to drop from Akira’s waist. The two of them took a step back and walked to their table. Akira smiled up at Goro, gesturing for him to come sit with them. On the stage, the singer started another song.

“I told you he’ll be here,” Cognitive Akechi told Akira, laughing when the raven flushed and brought his hand up, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers. Cognitive Akechi looked back at Goro.

“He didn’t believe you’d care enough, you see. It seems that even in his own heart he won’t let himself see just how well he knows you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Goro said sharply, sitting down. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was saying it to. “The fact I came here was purely an accident. I didn’t plan-“

“Oh, you  _ found  _ his Palace by accident,” Cognitive Akechi waved a dismissive hand. Goro noticed he was wearing a glove –  _ one  _ glove, the other one fitting snugly over Akira’s hand. “But was it an accident you went through the whole Palace, even knowing you were risking your life, without Loki and Robin Hood there to fall back on? And despite what you tell yourself, it wasn’t simple curiosity, either. No, you  _ cared  _ – you were worried. Even if both you and  _ him  _ are too cowardly to admit it to yourselves.”

Goro had the distinct feeling he should be offended – he was being, quite literally,  _ called out  _ by a cognitive version of himself. It was scary how accurate Akira’s version of himself was, too – Goro felt like his mirror image just started to comment on his innermost thoughts. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling at all.

As if sensing how he felt, Akira reached over the table. It looked like he was going to hold Goro’s hand and comfort him, only to stop himself midway. Cognitive Akechi rolled his eyes at him and, driven mostly by spite, Goro closed the space himself, taking Akira’s hand in his own. He tried his best to ignore how  _ good  _ the other boy’s hand felt in his.

Cognitive Akechi seemed like he wanted to say something, so Goro snarled at him to shut up. Akira laughed – openly and freely, in a way even Goro rarely saw. His golden eyes looked intently at him, a soft smile dancing over the Shadow’s lips.

“Are you here to steal my heart, Goro?” Akira asked and of  _ course _ , of course he was flirting. It was Goro’s turn to roll his eyes at him.

“More so find out what the fuck is going on. How come  _ you _ , of all people, have a Palace? Why did this happen? I’ve seen the way your friends see you… and you  _ realize  _ that, you must, otherwise they wouldn’t be here in your Palace. So why-”

Akira sighed. Suddenly, he looked a lot more tired. Cognitive Akechi was looking at him, his eyes intent.

“You really can’t tell?” his double asked and shook his head when Goro blinked at him, not comprehending. Cognitive Akechi leaned back on his chair, one of Muhen’s drinks materializing in his hand, and took a sip.

“For a Palace to form, a strong distortion needs to first exist within the Palace ruler,” he recited, staring at the ceiling. “Such distortions encompass a  _ place  _ the Palace ruler sees as distorted and the  _ nature of distortion  _ – the best physical representation of what they see the distorted  _ place  _ as. Generally, Palaces are impossible to form within Persona users – unless, of course, the nature of the Palace itself changes as well.

“In Akira’s case, you’ve figured it out yourself. He sees the world the way it is; all the people inside are perfect representations of their real selves. The only distorted thing is  _ himself  _ – and the shame and discomfort he feels because of how thinly he’s spread himself gave birth to the Palace.”

“But then-” Goro started, but the squeeze of Akira’s hand around his own made him stop. Akira was looking away from him, jaw clenched tight. Cognitive Akechi sighed.

“That’s the theory, and it’s all correct. But a Palace doesn’t just come to existence all by itself. There had to be a push – a key event, which gave birth to the Treasure within. An event like winning an Olympic medal, gaining success with a stolen piece of art… or losing someone so dear to you it ended up making you cling to every other person in your life, forcing yourself to change so they won’t abandon you, too.”

Despite his coat and scarf, Goro felt cold prickle his skin. He looked from the cognitive version of himself to shadow Akira, wishing he could see some proof they were joking. Neither of them looked away. Goro laughed, pulling his hand away from Akira’s hold.

“You… You can’t be serious. I-  _ I  _ did this? Losing  _ me _ ? Don’t be ridiculous. I brought my fate upon myself- I  _ chose  _ to stay on the other side of that goddamn divider! I tried to kill him, him and all of his precious  _ friends _ , for fuck’s sake!”

“Yes, you did,” Akira said, smiling sadly up at him. “It seems the real me truly is an idiot, isn’t he?”

“That’s not- No, you-” Goro stuttered, staring at the two of them. Cognitive Akechi shrugged.

“I agree Akira  _ is  _ a fool at best, and suicidal at worst – but the fact remains, losing you was the worst thing that could happen to him. You hadn’t seen him after, the nights he spent mourning you, trying to think of a way you could have survived. How much he regretted not telling you how he felt; not reaching out to you sooner. Not  _ saving  _ you.”

Goro grimaced. His cognitive self laughed, waving his hand in the air.

“Yes, yes, I called him out on his saviour complex as well. But, the fact remains. Even if Akira himself still won’t admit how he feels about you, he considers you smart enough to  _ know  _ \- so  _ I  _ know. He loves you, Goro. I wish I could say you  _ are  _ smart enough to know that, but I doubt that’s the case, so let me repeat it. He-”

“Shut up,” Goro said, looking away, his face flaring up. He was trying extremely hard to keep himself calm. This - well, it wasn’t like the confession was unwelcome. No matter how many lies Goro told himself, deep down he knew that the feelings he had for Akira were anything but platonic. Deeper still, he knew they weren’t one-sided, either. But to hear it spelt out by a cognition of himself, deep in the centre of Akira’s heart… it was the exact worst way to hear it. He felt like he was stealing, and if shadow Akira’s burning blush and clenched fists were anything to go by, he wasn’t the only one wishing it would have gone differently.

Goro took a deep breath and decided to ignore the issue - for now.

“Still, even if Akira… even if he feels a certain way about me, even if he was  _ sad  _ I… well, I came back, didn’t I? So it should all be-”

“Did you come back?”

Akira never spoke much; in the real world or here, it didn’t make much difference. Right now, eyes fixed on the table, fists clenched, his voice was uncharacteristically strained, as if he had to force himself to speak. Goro stared at him.

“What do you-”

“Did you come back, Goro? Or did you never die in the first place?” Akira repeated, his voice breaking at the last word. Goro felt that break deep in his chest; the pain in it thrust a dagger through his heart. He opened his mouth, ready to lie, to say  _ anything _ , and found he couldn’t. To lie now would be to betray Akira in a much deeper, more meaningful way than anything that has happened to them so far. And Goro, with all his cynicism, all his haughty looks and derogatory sneers, could not bring himself to do it.

He looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said. Opposite from him, Akira let out a breath.

“So I’ll need to lose you all over again?”

“I don’t know!” Goro repeated, his head snapping back to look Akira in the eye. “I don’t- I can remember shooting my gun and I can remember darkness afterwards. No pain, no being shot - nothing, because from what I can see so far, it’s  _ your  _ head Maruki messed in to see what you wanted most. The moment you stopped looking at me, my memories just… stopped. If I lived or if I died… I can’t be sure.”

Goro realized he was standing - somewhere along his tirade he jumped up from his seat. His chest was heaving. It felt good to scream his suspicions out; to see Akira’s eyes widen as he watched him scream. It gave shape to his uncertainty, made it less frightening. Opposite him, Akira was still staring. His cognitive double looked pointedly at the ceiling.

“You should tell  _ him  _ that, you know,” he said, in a conversational voice. “Not just scream it out at a fragment of his soul. The way you feel… the way he feels… Akira deserves to know.”

Goro scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right. Tell him, and see him and all his quote-unquote  _ friends _ throw me a pity party until this pantomime is done. Thank you, but no.”

“You said you don’t want to hurt him,” shadow Akira said, again in that quiet, vulnerable voice. Goro was starting to hate it. Somehow, hearing it always meant he won’t have the answer to whatever Akira had to say. He shrugged, looking away from the Shadow’s golden eyes.

“Me telling or not telling him will just hurt him the same,” he said. Akira shook his head.

“You’re wrong.”

“Then tell me one thing it will change. If I’m dead, then that’s it! Here or in the real world, neither you nor I can do anything about it.”

“No,” Akira agreed, reaching his gloved hand out. It rested over Goro’s own, the other’s thumb rubbing comfortingly over his palm. “But you’ll give him a chance to say goodbye.”

Goro stood still. For a long moment, there was silence between the three of them. In the background, now once again audible, the singer started  _ No More What Ifs _ .

“Ultimately, it’s your choice. Always has been,” Cognitive Akechi told Goro. “This Palace doesn’t work the same way others do. Oh, you can find Akira’s confidants and friends, bring them here one by one and confront their versions of him, make them see it’s okay to take off the mask. In theory, that will make the Palace disappear. But… well, that’s a lot of people, you don’t have much time and moreover, most of them won’t trust you enough to just let you lead them into the Metaverse, not to mention-”

“Just tell me the alternative already,” Goro growled. His cognitive self smirked at him.

“Or you can simply go to him, tonight, and talk. Tell him the truth; stop hiding behind your fears. A dead man doesn’t have much more to lose, and even if you  _ are  _ one… there’s still time. Let him have it.”

“And why would I be so charitable?” Goro snarled, though even he could hear his words lacked the usual bite. In the depths of Akira’s Palace, in the hidden abyss of his heart, Goro felt as if he was the one having his heart changed. That was just like Akira, really. And, right now… he wasn’t sure he minded it that much.

“You should know it best, shouldn’t you?” Akira smiled, pulling at Goro’s hand until he came closer, close enough for Akira to hold him. It was clumsy and tense and not at all comfortable… but it was warm and  _ perfect  _ in its own way. Like this, Goro couldn’t help but return the hug and allow shadow Akira’s words to wash over him, even as the Metaverse started to thin out and disappear around him.

“You love him, too.”


End file.
